Looking Back
by Violet Redmoor
Summary: Set just before PoA - Remus reflects on past events. An excuse for gratuitous flashbacks, really. And it ties in with all my others, so there is reference to RLSB slash, even if it's not the main point.
1. Surviving

Disclaimer: Nope. Not J K Rowling. Sorry.

Rating: PG, I guess. Slash implied.

Description: Remus' point of view just before the beginning of PoA. The title says it all, really.

A/N: Really, this is just an excuse for lots of flashbacks, MWPP or RL/SB stuff that was too short to go on its own. My sister (who beta's for me sometimes) says I made this chapter too depressing, particularly the flashback. Sorry if you all think so, but it was intended to be fairly depressing.

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Remus had not been awake long when the tap on his window came. He opened the window to let in the owl, and relieved it of the letter tied to its leg. He had been expecting this. Not that he got many letters – no, quite on the contrary, most of his old friends had drifted away and left him to rebuild his life by himself – but he did still read the _Daily Prophet_. As soon as he had heard the news he had known that someone would get in contact with him.

He turned the envelope over in his hands and began to open it, but changed his mind almost instantly and put it down on the table. He could not face this yet, not so early in the morning. Leaving the letter behind, he wandered numbly into his tiny kitchen and poured himself a glass of orange juice. He never ate much for breakfast, especially not either side of a full moon, just a couple of slices of dry toast. But he took his time over them, and then headed back upstairs without so much as a glance into the living room.

When he returned, dressed and with his hair still damp, the letter was lying accusingly where he had left it. He turned to go out through the kitchen, but then sighed. He could not put it off any longer. He snatched it up, tore open the envelope and shook out the letter. He sank onto the worn-out sofa, and began to read.

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He had to stand on a stool to get his battered old suitcase from on top of his wardrobe. Sirius would have laughed. Laughed, and then shoved him gently aside to get it down himself. See, he would have teased, there is a use for all this extra height. Oh yes, Remus had replied archly on more than one occasion, a few inches make all the difference. Sirius had been so shocked the first time he had said that. No one ever expected such rudeness from him; he was the good one.

The suitcase had been shoved right to the back of the wardrobe. He had not used it for years, though he had lived out of it once.

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Frank had insisted on accompanying him.

"Just in case there's any trouble," he had said, as if Remus was not capable of looking after himself. But then, Frank worked for the Ministry. Maybe he had known what they would find. Against that sort of 'trouble' Remus was powerless.

He had been horrified to find Ministry wizards crawling all over his flat. Perhaps he should have expected it, but... to see them going through his things, his and Sirius' things... He had felt as weak and shaky as he did the day after a full moon, but at the sight of some stranger going through his bookshelf, discarding book after book carelessly on the floor, the temper no one believed he had rose up.

"Hey!" he cried. "Hey, that's _mine_!"

They all froze and looked up. They seemed surprised to see him, standing there pale and drawn, Frank just behind him looking rather awkward.

"Yours?" asked a portly wizard, stepping forward. "We were under the impression that this flat belonged to Sirius Black."

"Well, yes... I mean, yes, it's his flat, but I lived here too." He had put that in past tense without even meaning to. His thoughts had never been clear on the subject but he knew now that he could never come back here, never live again in the place where he and Sirius had been so happy. Where he had _thought_ they had been happy.

They were all watching him suspiciously. Oh, God, they can't think I had anything to do with it...

"Don't worry!" he snapped, harsher than he intended. "I just came to get my stuff, then I'll be leaving. I wouldn't want to stay here, not now."

"It's okay, isn't it?" asked Frank, stepping forward for the first time. "We won't be long."

The man in charge seemed to know Frank; he relaxed visibly.

"Oh. Oh, well. Yes, I suppose so. We'll have to check everything he takes, though... procedure... _you _know."

"Yes, of course," replied Frank calmly. "Come on, Remus, I'll give you a hand. What's yours?"

"That shelf," said Remus shakily, pointing. "All the books on it, anyway. I'll... I'll go get my clothes."

The Ministry wizards watched them silently, standing aside so Remus could enter the bedroom. He pulled all his robes out of the cupboard and slung them onto the bed. Looking around, he found his suitcase tucked under the bed and shoved his clothes in it, careless of creasing them. There, on the bedside table, was the book he had been reading; he grabbed that too.

The photo by the book was of the four of them, a picnic. There he was, his head in Sirius' lap, both of them laughing and smiling. Sirius had a hand up to shield his eyes from the sun, but the other was playing absent-mindedly with Remus' hair. Peter was smiling, too, a goblet of wine in one hand, waving with the other. James was blowing kisses at the camera; Lily was behind it, of course.

He reached hesitantly towards the picture, but then slammed it face down on the table. Never again.

Ignoring the stares of the Ministry witch in the doorway, he stormed out. Frank had piled Remus' books neatly on the coffee table; he helped Remus pack them into his case. Remus looked around. Frank already had his broom. There was nothing else here he wanted to take; everything else was _theirs_, not his. Except... a witch to one side of the room was leafing through a large, leather-bound book. He stalked across the room, snatched his photo album from her hands and shoved that into his case as well.

He stood to one side, trembling slightly with anger, as Frank's acquaintance went through his pitiful belongings. One suitcase. His entire life in just one suitcase. The Ministry wizard looked as though he would like to object to the photo album, but Frank muttered something in his ear and he let it pass.

They walked out of the flat without a second glance.

"Right," said Frank, businesslike. "Where to?"

Remus hesitated, struck by a sudden panic, and Frank read the look on his face.

"You've nowhere to go, do you?" he asked kindly. Not trusting himself to speak, or to meet Frank's gaze, Remus shook his head.

"You can stay with me and Alice for a while," he offered. "She'll be glad to have you... if you don't mind keeping an eye on Neville every now and then?"

Remus smiled weakly. "Not at all," he said hoarsely. "Thank you."

He stayed with Frank for almost three weeks. Frank accompanied him to Lily and James' funeral, his self-appointed minder. But then came the full moon, inevitably. Alice was not happy about having a werewolf in the house with her one-year-old son, and though Frank was terribly apologetic, Remus agreed with her. Frank found him somewhere secure to spend the night, then came for him in the morning. He helped Remus clean up the blood, and got him back on his feet.

He stayed a week in Emmeline Vance's spare room, a week with Dedalus Diggle. Everyone seemed to tiptoe around him as if he might snap, and the days went past in a vague blur. A week sleeping on Sturgis Podmore's couch. A week on Hestia Jones', and his second full moon alone was spent locked in her basement. He could not bear the look of horror on her face when she found him weak and bleeding in the morning, and though she said he was welcome to stay, he knew he was not.

Alastor Moody, of all people, put him up that night. He was sure it was a favour to Dumbledore; the Auror spent all dinner glaring at him and said scarcely a word, so it could not have been for the pleasure of his company. He woke in the morning to the news that Frank and Alice Longbottom had been captured by Death Eaters, and tortured. They were in St Mungo's, but the healers were not hopeful.

That news hit him almost as hard as Lily, James and Peter's deaths, and Sirius' treachery. He broke down again and spent almost a month recovering at Arabella Figg's. And when the time came for him to worry about the next full moon, he heard from Dumbledore at last.

Dumbledore had heard of a cottage up for sale. It wasn't much, but it would be his own place. And most importantly – for Remus – it was isolated, maybe half a mile from its nearest neighbour, and it had a large, secure cellar. Would Remus be interested? If so, he could put in a word to the current owner, and Remus could be in by tomorrow.

So Remus had come here, tired, ill, and lonely. He had unpacked, thrown his suitcase up on top of the wardrobe and had time for nothing more before he had to lock himself in the cellar for another terrible night. The suitcase had not been moved since, and he had eventually come to feel at home here, though every now and again after a nightmare, he woke to wonder whose house he was sleeping in today.


	2. Schooldays

Disclaimer: I am still not J K Rowling. I am just borrowing her lovely, lovely characters.  
  
Rating: PG  
  
A/N: More like the last chapter; little vignettes of the Marauders. Incidentally, if anyone knows how to make italics come up on the site, I'd be grateful. I know I've seen them on other fics, but mine never seem to stay there and it's starting to bug me. Asterisks are all very well, but they spoil the effect sometimes (or I think so, anyway). I write in Word, if that makes a difference.  
  
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Remus was packing again, though with rather more care than last time. All of his belongings did not quite fit into one suitcase any more; he had already selected which books he would take and which he would have to leave behind. Hanging on the door to the wardrobe he left the clothes he would wear tomorrow; all the rest were neatly folded and ready to go into his case. The Hogwarts Express left at eleven, and he had to get down to London first. It would be an early start.  
  
The letter had been from Dumbledore, of course. He had always written occasionally, even when he ceased to hear from the rest of the Order, from anyone else he had thought of as friends back then. Oh, Sturgis Podmore popped round every year or so, to check he was still alive - Sturgis said that was not the purpose of his visits, but it may as well have been - and Hestia Jones turned up on the odd occasion, usually with a present of something useful. She still seemed to feel guilty that she had not been able to cope with him, that full moon so long ago.  
  
He did not blame her; he never had. It had always surprised him when people *did* manage to deal with what Sirius had termed 'the werewolf thing', rather than when they did not. He had friends in the village now, but they were all Muggles, and what they did not know would not hurt them, or so he prayed.  
  
He looked at his suitcase. He had not used it for, what, twelve years now, but those few months of swapping spare room for spare room and couch for couch had taken their toll. It looked much the worse for wear, and he was not sure it would stay shut once it was full.  
  
He ran his fingertips sadly over the peeling writing. Professor R J Lupin. Had they guessed, when they gave it to him, that their joke would turn out to be true? It had been a gift from James, Sirius and Peter, when they left Hogwarts after their N.E.W.T.s. From James and Sirius, just because they felt like it, but from Peter to say thank-you. That was why they had added the Professor to his name; he had always tutored Peter, helped him when he struggled to keep up with James and Sirius. And when he had been made Prefect, he had helped the younger Gryffindors, too; those who had been brave enough to ask for the help.  
  
He still remembered the day he had got the Prefect badge along with his usual Hogwarts letter. As had become tradition by then, the four of them had spent the last two weeks of the holidays with James and his parents. James' mother had brought their letters in, pausing to tell James off for singing raucously at the breakfast table.  
  
"You know what they say," she had said solemnly. "If you sing before breakfast, you'll cry before night." She had always been one for the old sayings. She came out with two or three a day.  
  
They had opened their letters, and James, Sirius and Peter had begun comparing the new books they would need. When they had noticed his silence, they looked around to see him staring in shock at the red and gold badge on the table.  
  
"Prefect," he had said hoarsely. "He made me a Prefect, even though..." He did not have to say even though what; they always understood. James and Sirius had both hugged him, the sort of spontaneous gesture they were always making and he had always treasured.  
  
"You see," Sirius had said with his arm still around Remus' shoulders. "He doesn't see a monster, either."  
  
Remus sighed, and shook himself out of his reverie. No, none of them had seen the monster hidden behind the handsome face and laughing blue eyes of Sirius Black. He opened the case and went to begin stowing his books carefully inside it, but it was not empty. Curiously, he took out the old, leather-bound book left in its base.  
  
The bottom fell out of his stomach when he opened the book and saw his fifteen-year-old best friends waving up at him from the first page. He and James had both got cameras for Christmas that year, and had both brought them to school the next term, meaning to record their lives to look back on later.  
  
Here was Sirius, devastatingly handsome even at that age, acting up for the camera. Here was Peter, concentrating on some essay and not noticing that his photo was being taken. James and Sirius; one of their frequent wresting matches that inevitably disturbed the whole common room. James playing Quidditch; Peter eating candy in Hogsmeade; Sirius and his girlfriend of the week; Sirius and Peter playing chess; James laughing at him from behind his own camera.  
  
One of him; his friends had borrowed the camera, claiming he couldn't have an album of their term and not be in it himself. One of all four of them sprawled sleepily across various sofas and chairs by the fire after a night of running through the grounds. Another of all four, but they had known that one was being taken and were all smiling and waving to the camera. Who had he cornered to take that photo? It might even have been Lily; even when she and James had been at their worst, she had always been civil to him.  
  
He knew he should not torment himself with these windows into yesterday, into the happiest times of his life, but he could not help it. Something made him keep turning the pages. Here were his parents, before their estrangement, though you could still see the tired, stressed lines of the years of worry and fear he had caused them. He and James had both stopped taking the cameras to school after that first, obsessive term, but there were still a few photos from the holidays. Sirius fishing. None of them had ever imagined he had the patience to sit still for so long, though it was true that his attention wavered even then. He talked James into trying it for himself; here he was, looking thoroughly bored and plainly mocking his best friend.  
  
They were getting older. Christmas at the Potter's house; that had been in their seventh year, hadn't it? Yes, because there was Lily, with her arm around James. And, ah yes, the cameras had made a reappearance at school for their final term.  
  
The leaving feast, oh, that had been a fun day. There they were (Lily behind the camera again), all four of them raising their glasses in salute. The Marauders had been determined to go out with a bang; they had bought Hogsmeade's entire stock of fireworks for the occasion. How they had laughed, seeing the Slytherins duck and curse as Catherine wheels and rockets zoomed over their heads to the ceiling, James and Sirius standing on their seats to conduct the explosions. They had lit up the Great Hall for hours.  
  
And then, of course, an over-enthusiastic firecracker had zoomed straight at Sirius, knocking him from the chair. He had taken Remus and several innocent bystanders with him as he toppled over, much to James and Peter's amusement. There they were, laughing their heads off, their cheeks flushed. And here was Sirius, helping him back to his feet. Overcome with end-of- school spirits, perhaps, he had kissed Remus soundly in front of the entire school. Yes, Lily had got a picture of that too. And of James cheering.  
  
How had he forgotten that day? Even without the photos, he would have thought it would have stuck in his mind.  
  
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The whole school was watching as Sirius made a spectacle of them both. Remus felt his cheeks burning. The other three people who had been knocked from the table were goggling at them as they got to their own feet. He thought he could hear James cheering. Yes, he realised as Sirius pulled away, leaving him trembling slightly, yes, that was definitely James cheering. And - oh God! - the click click of Lily using his camera.  
  
"Um..." he managed. "Not that I didn't enjoy that, but..." He gestured helplessly at the packed hall. "I was under the impression we were going to be discreet?"  
  
"Oh, I don't care!" Sirius sounded gleeful, pushing his dark hair from his face. At least he seemed to have gone a bit red as well. Often nothing seemed to faze him. He pulled Remus into one of his fierce hugs, and gave him another kiss, though thankfully - both for his embarrassment and his knees - this one was much briefer. "I love you, Moony, and I don't care who knows it."  
  
Remus had not been sure he heard right, over all the noise from the fireworks and their audience, but later he had gone over it in his head and realised that he had not been mistaken. Sirius had just said he loved him.  
  
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He shut the album with a snap and sighed, not going on to the photos of his days after Hogwarts. Reminiscing, he scolded himself. You *must* be getting old. What good would it do him? If he ever did meet Sirius again - unlikely - there would be no conversations about the old days. It was Sirius' fault those days had ended, and he would see Sirius pay for it. Even if it broke his heart to do so. 


	3. Promises

Disclaimer: As much as I would like to own Remus, Sirius etc I am still only a fanfic writer borrowing from the wonderful J K Rowling. And running out of original disclaimers.  
  
Rating: PG for mild slash  
  
A/N: I thought I'd let Sirius have a voice. I usually write from Remus' PoV, or occasionally Lily, but I thought Sirius' side of this particular story needed to be told, even if I spend more time on flashbacks than on the "current day" of the fic.  
  
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* * *

  
He's at Hogwarts. He's at Hogwarts. Even in Azkaban, Sirius' mind had rarely been so consumed by one thought alone. He ran north by night, his paws on the ground pounding out the words, and by day he slept, his dreams troubled even in dog form by memories of Peter, of that terrible day twelve years ago.  
  
But as obsessed as he was, sometimes other thoughts made themselves heard. That was how he had come to Surrey to see Harry. That had turned out badly; he had plainly given the boy a fright. He looked so like James; Peter could not be allowed to ruin his life as well, to kill one more remnant of Sirius' family.  
  
And last night, he had looked up at the sky and seen the full moon, and thought for the first time since he had left Azkaban, of Remus. I failed you, too, Moony, old friend, he had thought. Another broken vow. Let me make amends. When I have found Peter, and made him pay for what he did to us all, I will find you.  
  
Why was he so sure Remus was still alive? It was twelve years ago he had last seen or heard of him, twelve years ago that Remus had come disguised to his hearing and he had seen horror and dawning hatred in the brown eyes he knew so well. But he was sure that Remus would not die, would not let it break him. He always had been stronger than anyone gave him credit for.  
  
He lifted his head and howled at the full moon, knowing that wherever he was Remus would be doing the same. And knowing that without any of his old friends to help him tonight, Remus' howls would be mindless, full of pain. He would not remember until morning the times when they had howled together. I will pay Peter back for you too, Moony, for you and your pain as well as for Lily and James and little Harry, and my twelve years in hell. He howled with all his strength for another broken promise.  
  


* * *

  
Sirius glanced at the clock. Forty minutes. If he hurried he could get this assignment finished before he had to go back for Moony.  
  
"Not in a hurry to leave, are you, Black?" asked one of his new colleagues.  
  
"Oh... I'm due to meet an old friend." He did not want to seem lazy, like he could not wait to finish work and be gone.  
  
But when he had finished, handed his work to his boss and hurried for his cloak, he found himself called back.  
  
"Black!"  
  
"Sir?" He glanced at the clock again.  
  
"This is good, Black, what I've looked at so far, but I'll need a list of your sources."  
  
"Yes, of course. I'll get them to you first thing tomorrow."  
  
His boss' eyebrows shot up. "I was hoping to have them before you leave tonight. It won't take you ten minutes, will it?"  
  
He muttered again about meeting a friend. He could not let Moony down. But his boss just chuckled.  
  
"I won't keep you. But surely your friend won't mind if you're ten minutes late?"  
  
How could he explain that even one minute was too late? That his lover would have to spend the night alone, locked into their special room, probably hurting himself, if Sirius did not get back in time? And his boss was looking at him curiously. He loved this job, he had been so happy when he was accepted. And Remus had been proud of him. Remus would understand, wouldn't he?  
  
"Of course, sir," he mumbled, and put his cloak back on its peg, turning back to his desk. If he really hurried, then Apparated home instead of walking as he had been planning, he would still be in time.  
  
He arrived in the hallway of his flat, breathless and slightly panicked, and threw down his cloak and bag.  
  
"Remus?" he called. "Moony?" The sources had taken longer to look up than he had expected. He had left with maybe a minute to go before the moon rose.  
  
He hurried through the flat. Remus was not in the living room, or their bedroom. His heart sinking, he turned to the room they had fitted out for these nights; the walls and door magically strengthened, soundproofed so that the neighbours would never hear anything and worry. The door was sealed.  
  
Cursing his own stupidity, he sank to the floor by the door. He could not go in. If he opened the door, by the time he got it sealed again, the wolf would be onto him, or even through the door. If he Apparated in, the wolf would be onto him before he had time to change into his dog form. He wondered how long Remus had waited, trusting that Sirius would come home before it was too late.  
  
"Damn it!" he muttered. He got to his feet and stormed into the kitchen. He would have something to eat, and then he would wait up by the wolf's room until the moon had set and he could get Remus out. He was damned if he would leave Remus to suffer alone for one second more than he had to.  
  
He woke up to find sunlight falling gently onto his face, flooding their flat through the wooden blinds. For a split-second he wondered what he was doing sleeping on the floor, but then he remembered and swore violently. He had promised himself he would stay awake, that he would go in to Remus the second it was safe. How long had he been sleeping?  
  
He grabbed his wand and removed the seal on the door. He pushed it, but there was something in the way. Had Remus collapsed behind the door? As carefully as he could, he forced it open, but it was not his lover blocking it, as he had feared, but that it had got stuck on a great tear in the carpet.  
  
He caught his breath as his eyes adjusted to the gloom of this windowless room. The carpet had been ripped to shreds; there were lumps of it torn up and strewn across the floor, great gouges in the floorboard underneath. There were bloodstains on the carpet, and even splashes of blood on the walls. One of the walls had cracked, despite the strengthening spells both he and Remus had cast on this room. Dreading what he would see, Sirius turned to look for his lover.  
  
Remus had collapsed on the far side of the room. He was sprawled, naked and covered in blood, across one of the few undamaged sections on carpet. That in itself was wrong; Remus did not sprawl; he would do nothing so undignified. He slept as neatly as he did everything else, curled in a tight ball.  
  
Sirius hurried to Remus' side. He pushed the blood-matted hair from his lover's face and shook him as gently as he could manage. Remus' dark brown eyes shot open, focused on Sirius for all of a second, and then rolled back into his head.  
  
"I'm sorry, Re, so sorry," he whispered, gathering Remus to him and getting rather unsteadily to his feet. Remus did not even stir; his head lolled over Sirius' shoulder.  
  
Sirius took Remus into the bathroom, held him close while he ran warm water into the bath. When it was half full, he lowered Remus carefully into it, holding him as gently as he did his baby godson. He wiped away the blood that covered Remus' chest and arms, rinsed it from his hair. Last night had evidently been a bad one, even by the standards of full moons. Some of these latest wounds would leave new scars. Poor Remus had more scars than anyone he knew, even old Kettleburn, the Care of Magical Creatures Professor.  
  
Remus opened his eyes again, looking very drowsy, and smiled vaguely at Sirius.  
  
"How are you feeling?" asked Sirius.  
  
"Not great," croaked Remus. Sirius forced himself not to flinch. He must have been screaming all night, to leave his throat so raw he can scarcely talk. And Sirius had not heard a thing through the silencing spells on the room, not one sound. He had slept peacefully while his lover suffered.  
  
"I'm so sorry, Re. I should have been here. Why didn't you call Prongs, or Wormtail? They would have come for you."  
  
"No time," replied Remus. "I was waiting for you. I was sure you'd be back." There was no accusation in Remus' quiet words, but Sirius flinched anyway.  
  
"I'm sorry. They wanted me to stay until the assignment was finished, at work, I mean. I hoped I'd still have time to make it back for you." He lifted Remus from the bath and wrapped him in a huge, soft towel. It was a measure of how exhausted and sore Remus must have been that he did not protest; usually he insisted that he could manage by himself. He always had done. "It won't happen again. I promise, Remus, you'll never have to spend a full moon by yourself again. I promise."  
  
Remus just sighed and rested his head against Sirius' chest, but he was smiling. Sirius held him until he was dry and had fallen asleep again, then tucked him safely into bed and left him with a kiss on the cheek. He was late for work, but he had decided where his priorities lay. And every full moon after that, he either took the day off completely or left early, no matter what they wanted him to do. It could wait, he insisted. His friend could not.  
  


* * *

  
A low rumbling growl built in Sirius' chest. He poured all his strength into his legs. Peter would pay. And before he died, he would know what he was paying for.  
  
He's at Hogwarts. He's at Hogwarts. 


	4. Trouble

Disclaimer: Alas and alack, I am not J K Rowling and I own nothing remotely connected to Harry Potter except well-thumbed copies of the books and an over-active imagination. Also, I have borrowed some of JK's actual dialogue at the very end of this chapter. I am very, very sorry! Please don't sue me, or burn me alive, or any other unpleasant such things.  
  
Rating: PG  
  
A/N: Back to Remus for the last chapter, which takes us right up to Remus' introduction in the book.  
  
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* * *

  
Remus was up before dawn to catch the train to Kings Cross. A Muggle train, of course. He wore old jeans and a threadbare jumper, and carried his robes in a small bag as well as his suitcase. He had been right; it would not stay shut, and he had knotted a large quantity of string around it to hold his belongings inside.  
  
As he sat on the train, staring glumly out of the window at the dark countryside speeding past, he wondered why Dumbledore had suggested this. Not that he was not grateful to have a job, and this proof that he was still trusted, still thought of. But he wondered. Did Dumbledore think he would be a good teacher? Defence Against the Dark Arts had always been his best subject. Or did Dumbledore just see the boy who had once loved Sirius Black, the last of the Marauders?  
  
Well, his letter answered that. "We know that Sirius' goal is Harry, perhaps to take him to Voldemort or perhaps just for revenge, but he was responsible for the deaths of Lily, James and Peter, and it is not inconceivable that he might come after you as well." Dumbledore wanted to keep him safe. He supposed it was better than wanting to keep an eye on him, in case he joined his old friend.  
  
He shifted a little in his seat. He was so tired. The full moon had been only a couple of days ago, and with all the hassle of getting ready for this new job, he was not yet fully recovered. He knew he must look terrible; he had seen some of the Muggles at the railway station shooting him concerned glances. You don't know the half of it, he had thought.  
  
He glanced down at his arm. The wound had almost healed now; he did not think this one would leave another scar to add to his collection. That last full moon had been the worst for a long time, perhaps because he was so preoccupied. He had even been hallucinating, sure for a moment or two that he had heard a second howl in answer to his.  
  
Not that any would be as bad as the first full moon after Sirius was sent to Azkaban. He had really thought – before the world he and his friends had built came crashing down around them – that he would never have to spend another full moon alone. After all, Sirius never broke his promises.  
  
He found himself suddenly bitter. Never broke his promises – hah! He had promised to keep James, Lily and Harry safe, just as he had promised to keep Remus safe, and he had failed them all, hadn't he? No, not failed. Betrayed. Betrayed them all.  
  


* * *

  
He arrived at King's Cross earlier than he had expected, and crossed to Platform 9 and 3/4. The train was sitting waiting, though it would be half an hour or so before any students arrived to join it. He chose a compartment right at the very end of the train, trying hard not to remember that he, Peter, Sirius and James had always done the same thing, from their very first journey to Hogwarts. Leaving his suitcase in the luggage rack, he made his way up to the front of the train, to introduce himself to the driver.  
  
Dumbledore's letter had contained more than an invitation to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts and a warning that Sirius might come to finish the job, as it were.  
  
"As I am sure you will understand, given the circumstances, the Ministry are placing added security around Hogwarts this year. Dementors are to be stationed at all entrances and exits to the school. You are as little fond of them as I, I recall, and they will no doubt affect the atmosphere within the school. I am afraid this will not be an easy year in which to teach, but I am confident you will be up to the challenge.  
  
If you accept this post – as I hope you will – I have one further favour to ask of you. The Minister for Magic, who has naturally taken a personal interest in this case, has mentioned that he may have the Hogwarts Express searched before it arrives at the school. I am not convinced that this measure is necessary, but as I do not wish to take risks with the safety of my students, I have agreed.  
  
Remus, I would be very grateful if you would travel to Hogwarts on the train, at the beginning of term. The Minister insists the Dementors will be no danger to the students, but their nature being what it is, I would be much happier if I knew there was an experienced hand on the scene. Someone I know I can trust to handle the situation."  
  
Well, Remus could hardly refuse. The thought of a handful of Dementors on a train full of students unsettled him as much as he was sure it did Dumbledore.  
  
His introductions over, Remus headed back down to his compartment. Soon, the first students would begin filtering onto the station. He would try and catch just a little sleep before they arrived and their noise made it impossible. He wondered absently if any of them would prove to be as... unruly as the Marauders. Unlikely, he thought with a wry smile. Though in his case it was only reflected glory, he did not think any student would ever manage to top the feats of he and his friends. He yawned and settled more comfortably into his seat.  
  


* * *

  
"We are going to be in so much trouble," he hissed. He crouched under the Invisibility Cloak with James, Sirius and Peter. They were pressed against the wall of the corridor, trying to make sure one of their feet did not slip out and give them away, certain that any second now, Professors McGonagall and Kettleburn would come those few inches closer and bump into them. Invisibility Cloaks were all very well, thought Remus, but he would be eternally grateful when someone came up with a cloak that could bestow common sense on his two best friends.  
  
"Shh!" McGonagall and Kettleburn were talking loudly, but not so much that they might not hear a conversation where there should not be one and find four students out of bed long, long after curfew.  
  
It had seemed like such a good idea, when Sirius and James woke him and Peter at half past eleven and suggested going for a walk in the Forest. They were planning an excursion in there on the next full moon, and even Remus agreed it would be useful to know the territory beforehand.  
  
Now, it was almost three o'clock in the morning, and getting back into Gryffindor Tower and their beds was proving much harder than getting out in the first place. They had already narrowly avoided the Astronomy Professor on a nighttime wander, and only their Map had kept them out of the clutches of Argus Filch, the horrible caretaker.  
  
Honestly, thought Remus, why *were* so many teachers out of bed and roaming the corridors? It really wasn't fair. They were worse than... well, than the Marauders. They had thought they were home and dry, with only three corridors to go, when they had heard McGonagall's voice approaching. With nowhere to hide and nowhere to go, they had squeezed into a tiny alcove that held an old and particularly spiky suit of armour and were doing their best not to move or even breathe.  
  
To make things worse, McGonagall and her conversational partner – and since when had Kettleburn ever had anything interesting to say? – had not carried on past Remus and his friends. No, for some unknown reason they had chosen just this stretch of corridor to pause in and continue their chat. Two steps to McGonagall's left, and they would walk straight into the students.  
  
"This is ridiculous," he heard Sirius mutter. They were jammed together so closely that Sirius' breath tickled his neck. That was not helping his nerves, either.  
  
"Shh!" warned James again. The Professors' conversation faltered, and McGonagall looked in their direction, frowning. They all held their breath, and did not let it out until she looked away.  
  
Sirius shifted behind him and he struggled not to fall over, or let his feet stick out from under the cloak.  
  
"Stay here," whispered Sirius.  
  
"What?" hissed James. "What are you doing? Sirius, no!"  
  
Suddenly Remus could not longer feel his tall friend squashed behind him. Something bumped his legs, and with a horrible sinking feeling, he looked down to see a huge black dog slinking out from behind them.  
  
"No," he groaned through gritted teeth.  
  
Sirius whisked past McGonagall and Kettleburn, and then barked. The sound echoed off the corridor walls, and the Professors broke off their conversation to stare in astonishment at the dog.  
  
"How on *earth*..." he heard McGonagall exclaim. Sirius barked again, wagging his tail, and as soon as McGonagall took a step towards him he bounded to the end of the corridor. He paused and Remus heard him bark again. Kettleburn started exasperatedly after McGonagall. Sirius let them get within a foot of him, then he was off again, barking all the way, the two Professors in hot pursuit.  
  
For a second, he, James and Peter stared after them in astonishment, then they looked at each other and broke into grins. They were creased up with silent laughter as they hurried back into the Tower.  
  
"Larkspur," gasped Remus. The Fat Lady swung open despite her disapproving frown, and they clambered through quickly, before she could begin to lecture on them being out so late.  
  
"The Map, the Map!" called James. Remus dug it out from his pocket and they laid it on the table before the now-dead fire.  
  
"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good!" declared Remus, tapping the Map with his wand. They waited impatiently as their enchanted writing swirled across the page and the map appeared, and then they located Sirius, running along the third floor corridor with McGonagall and Kettleburn still after him.  
  
They watched their friend's progress all around the castle, several times roaring with laughter and then looking guiltily up towards the dormitories. At one stage, Kettleburn and McGonagall split up in an attempt to corner the dog, but to judge from the closeness of their dots on the map, Sirius must have darted through Kettleburn's legs.  
  
Eventually – perhaps deciding that they had been given more than enough time to make it back to the common room, or maybe just tiring of his game – Sirius slipped into one of the secret passages they had discovered. To judge from the fact the McGonagall and Kettleburn stayed at the spot where he had vanished for some five minutes afterwards, this was not one that the teachers knew.  
  
Remus wiped the map, and they all sat back to await Sirius' return. Remus curled his legs up into his chair, James slouched in his, and Peter, sprawled across the sofa, seemed to actually fall asleep.  
  
Sirius appeared through the portrait hole ten minutes later, sweaty and with his hair and robes in terrible disarray, but grinning from ear to ear. He threw himself down in the chair opposite James and sighed.  
  
"I'm shattered!" he declared. "That was worth it, though."  
  
Somehow, none of them made up to bed that night. The next thing they knew, they were awakened by the sound of laughter. Remus opened his eyes to sunlight and peered blearily up at the figure before him.  
  
"Oh, I need a camera!" he chuckled. It was a seventh year he knew on sight, but not to speak to. "Sorry, guys, but you're a picture."  
  
There was a sound of running footsteps, and Remus peered around at his friends. Although Peter's eyes were open, he did not seem to have moved since last night. Sirius had raised his head off his chest and was blinking stupidly at the seventh year, looking as tired as Remus felt. James had gone from slouching in his chair to drooping over its arm, and he was still fast asleep, his mouth open and snoring faintly.  
  
Remus tried to formulate some excuse, but it felt like he had so much mush for brains, and before he could even manage a coherent sentence or summon the energy to move, the running footsteps returned. The next thing, there was a click and a bright flash, and he knew that this moment of embarrassment had been recorded forever.  
  


* * *

  
He was awakened this time by a feeling of cold and by loud, panicked voices.  
  
"Come in and sit down – " said an unidentified someone.  
  
"Not here! I'm here!" James? That was James' voice. Surely... No, he must be imagining things. Probably still half asleep. He opened his eyes and for a moment was disorientated to find that he still could not see a thing.  
  
"Ouch!" came another voice. A boy. Another wave of cold washed over him, and Remus felt all the drowsiness leave him in a horrid rush of realisation. Only one thing could cause such cold, such darkness... He had hoped Cornelius Fudge would think better of searching the train with Dementors, but...  
  
As fear began to prickle its way up his spine, he got to his feet. "Quiet!" 


End file.
